


Slut

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, boyfriends being boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-28 21:06:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/678889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry overhears Louis describing him in a less than positive light while drunk.</p><p>So maybe he overreacts, but he has every reason too, right?</p><p>And Louis knows he's been an idiot, but he's determined to win Harry's heart through romantic chivalry... or something like that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slut

**Author's Note:**

> Based off a prompt from larryinmyheartforever on Tumblr that asked for:
> 
> Larry where Harry overhears Louis calling him a slut to a friend and is really hurt and angry. He considers breaking up with him but Louis does something (you choose) that changed his mind.
> 
> (She also asked for makeup sex, but I didn't really write smut back then... oh, how things have changed :P)

It’s not often that Louis goes out when Harry doesn’t. They both like clubbing as much as they like curling up with each other on the sofa, but usually if they go out, they go together or at any rate go different places at the same time. But tonight is an exception, and the younger man has just been woken up by his partner returning from a late night out with Stan who seems to have had to help him in the taxi home if the sounds of Louis stumbling are anything to go by.

Sighing at his disrupted sleep, he gets out of bed and down the stairs with a mind to yell at them be quiet, when the word ‘ _Harry_ ’ in his boyfriend’s Yorkshire accent catches his attention. Harry doesn’t really consider himself to be nosy as such, but there’s no way he can resist listening in on his drunken boyfriend after Louis has mentioned his name. Keeping as quiet as possible, he leans against the wall beside the open door and strains his ears to hear what Louis and Stan are talking about.

“You know, I think Hazza tried to chat me up last night," slurs Stan, making Harry cringe on the other side of the wall as that particular inebriated memory rises to the surface. He loves Louis, but when he’s had a few he does seem to have a habit of flirting with anything that moves.

“I’m not really surprised to be honest,” reveals Louis a bit louder than he probably would do if he was sobe, and Harry can just imagine the drunken grin that’s playing around his lips as he speaks. “I mean, as much as I love him, I’ve got to admit he’s a bit of a slut!”

At those words Harry stiffens suddenly in raw humiliation and embarrassment; his mind seems to freeze over completely from the terrible things he’s just heard about himself. There are many things he’s learned to expect from Louis when he’s intoxicated (bitchiness towards other people included) but this isn’t something he’s ever heard of or suspected before. He simply can’t believe that his own boyfriend would say that about him!

With tears beginning to clog his throat and blur his vision, Harry turns away from the wall and makes his way towards the stairs which he ascends as near silently as possible, while inside his heart is breaking.

***

When Louis opens his eyes the next day, he’s less surprised to find that he’s suffering from the famous Tomlinson Hangover than he is to realise that he’s sleeping on the sofa. Normally he manages to crawl into bed with Harry after being on the piss. or sometimes his boyfriend will even carry him upstairs if he crashes out in the living room, but although his memories of last night are hazy at best, he’s sure he had something preventing him from doing so yesterday.

However, just as he’s starting to remember some more of the evening, his stomach rumbles and he realises that (a) he’s absolutely starving, and (b) he can smell his boyfriend’s amazing cooking coming from the kitchen. Ignoring the steady pounding behind his temples, he stretches out on the couch, stands up rather gingerly, and then attempts to roll out a crick in his neck before quickly stopping when the world starts to spin at an alarming pace. Part of him can’t help but feel like he should really be better at holding his alcohol at 21, but he consoles himself with the thought that he is, at least, better at it than Niall, who at this point is probably either still dead to the world or throwing up the contents of his stomach.

Harry likes to tease Louis about the fact that he turns into such a gossip when he’s drunk but then acts like he’s dying in the morning, but the younger man is usually sympathetic to his hangovers and Louis hopes that the cooked breakfast he can smell is at least partially for him. Once he’s steady on his feet and walking seems like a genuine option again, he makes his way through the living room towards the kitchen where Harry is stood facing away from him while cooking something that Louis can’t see from this angle.

“Hey there, love,” he croaks eventually, voice still hoarse from overuse last night, yet to his surprise, instead of turning around Harry stiffens for no apparent reason when he hears the voice.

“Morning,” his tone is unusually brusque, rather than his usual adoring morning state and he still doesn’t turn around to face an awfully confused Louis, who is starting to wonder if there’s something Harry knows that he’s not letting on - although if so he’s fairly certain he has no secrets that would warrant such behaviour!

“That smells nice, Haz, is any for me?”

“No.” The single callous word seems to say it all for the older man: clearly he’s done something to upset Harry but can’t for the life of him think what. it must have been something last night, if only he could remember…

Just then the clanking of the frying pan as it’s moved from the heat sends him out of his reverie and he attempts to start a different conversation.

“So you left me on the sofa last night, then!” attempting a light cheery voice is difficult under the circumstances but Harry doesn’t even try to reduce the tension.

“Well, I wasn’t sure if you’d be here in the morning - or if I wanted you to be.” His tone is venomous, and so low that Louis has to almost strain to hear it. Now Harry comes in with the killer blow that seems to hurt him as much as it does Louis. “After all, why would you want to live with a slut?”

With that Harry picks up his plate that’s now heaped with delicious looking food that neither of them are really in the mood for eating and storms out of the kitchen, his face a picture of hurt and anger while an extremely confused Louis wonders what on earth he’s talking about. A _slut_? Why would he… Then the penny drops with a terrible, gut-wrenching thud.

***

Harry needs to get out of the house as soon as possible if he wants to retain any mental stability, so the moment he’s finished eating he tugs on a jacket and sneaks outside while managing to avoid Louis. Although he has no idea where he’s going to go next, he decides against taking the car and instead wanders from their flat further into the centre of London, where he does his utmost best to forget all about Louis. This, however, isn’t that easy when every activity (buying clothes; going to their favourite hang outs; eating at the first cafe they visited after moving in together) seems to remind him of his boyfriend more and more. By the time he gets home he’s emotionally exhausted from the strain of what he heard last night and the awful pretence that he really doesn’t care, so when he opens the door to find Liuis ushering him into the living room to sit down and talk things through he’s too tired to argue.

He’s determined that nothing can be said to change his heartbroken state, however Louis is similarly certain that if he can just find the words then they can make it up, which right now is all he wants from life. Uncertainly, he begins to recite the speech he’s been rehearsing all morning.

“Harry I’m so sorry about what I said last night, it was utterly wrong and selfish and thoughtless of me.” Still looking thoroughly unconvinced, Harry glances up scornfully as he responds.

“Well maybe you should have thought about that before you said it, huh?”

Gulping a little at how badly this is going, Louis tries a different tactic in the hope that it will prove more effective in getting his boyfriend to forgive him.

“Look, I know blaming it on being drunk is stupid because I should have better control over myself, but I honestly was totally pissed and you know I never mean a word I say when I’m like that!” By this time his voice has taken on a desperate pleading tone, yet this simply serves to make Harry glare at him almost pityingly without even bothering to voice his utter contempt. “I’m so sorry!”

“So you keep saying,” mutters Harry, then raises his voice as he starts to say the thoughts that have been running through his head all day. “Why are we even still here, Lou? This relationship is hard enough anyway and we’ve thought about calling it quits plenty of times! But I thought we stayed together because - because you loved me. But clearly you don’t so…”

Unable to believe the terrible things he’s hearing, Louis can’t stop himself from speaking over his boyfriend, and although the words aren’t planned, they jumble and swirl together as he desperately tries to convince Harry that they can’t break up now.

“Please Harry don’t ever say that! I love you more than anything else in my life and I always will do, even if I do or say stupid things which I will regret forever because they upset you and I can’t stand that. You’re so beautiful and perfect that you deserve someone so much better than me, and I really don’t deserve you, but I don’t care because I can’t imagine being with anyone else but you. You make everything better and bearable and God knows what I’d do without you - you keep me sane and happy, so much happier that I’d ever been before I met you!

"I love your smile and how you make me laugh without even trying even when I’m upset and I love your eyes and our in-jokes and how you look in the morning when we’ve just woken up and I can’t believe that I get to go to sleep every night next to someone as amazing as you. I love how you get jealous and how you try and teach me to cook even though I’m useless and how you kiss me when I’m rambling on too much, which you should probably do now to be honest. And if you think that you want this to end then I won’t stop you but don’t ever think that I don’t love you because I do. I love you.”

Harry originally planned to sit through the speech impassively, but less than halfway through he’s already entranced. The way that Louis can talk as though addressing both a whole audience and a single person at the same time must hark back to his adored drama lessons at school, but it’s clear from his endearing face and the way he’s panting slightly from the exertion of the unexpected outburst that he means every word he’s saying.

“Do you honestly mean all that?” he asks, his face a mixture of surprise, adoration and confusion.

“Of course I do! I love you.”

Harry can’t help but think that if this was one of the fanfictions they like reading together sometimes then at this point they would kiss tenderly in order to resolve all their differences, but before he has time to say it aloud, it’s actually happening, which is a bit weird but also majorly brilliant.

The embrace is warm and soft and forgiving and loving, but then their instincts kick in mixed with the fact they haven’t had sex for a while and suddenly hands and tongues are roaming everywhere, exploring and claiming their territory in the form of bites and kisses. Only breaking apart when they fall down onto the sofa, the couple look deep into each other’s eyes, where Louis is pleased to find tranquillity and forgiveness and, yes, horniness.

“Is this the part where we have hot make up sex?” whispers Louis, his cheeky grin beginning to return to his face.

“You bet!” replies Harry as he plants a row of small kisses down his boyfriend’s jaw line to make him whimper slightly in pleasure. “Now we’ll see who the real slut is, eh?”

Laughing, they kiss passionately again and Louis can’t help but feel astonishingly thankful that everything is back to normal - after all, no matter how many arguments they have, he still loves Harry more than anyone else in the world. And nothing and no one can change that.

**Author's Note:**

> So, um, hope you liked this, it's kind of cheesy but I just wanted Harry being hurt and Louis feeling awful about being the one who hurt him because he's his Hazza and he'd never want to do anything to make him feel bad. And he'd doubtless do something overly romantic to prove his love to Harry, because perfect boyfriends are perfect <3


End file.
